Her
by rationalbookworm
Summary: But even with all her digging, all her contacts, even she couldn't figure out what happened to Caitlyn. It was as though the girl just fell off the face of the earth. Not a trace left. Lost And Found Series One Shot


**This was so much better in my head, but whatever. Here's another Sherlock story set in the same universe as Peaches, Almonds, and Cranberries, which I have now decided to call the Lost and Found Series. Hope you like it despite it's relative crappiness.**

**Disclaimer: Not Mine.**

Ah, Alaska! It was perfect! No one would look for her in the middle of nowhere Alaska, surrounded by ice and snow and trees with barely a soul in sight.

God, she was bored. Sure no one would think to look for her here, not even Moriarty, but that didn't mean she didn't feel the urge to blow her brains out every day from the sheer lack of anything better to do. Instead she decided to doll herself up like she used to and go try to find some entertainment. She doubted finding any in this so called town that was more of a small collection of a dozen or so houses. But she could try.

The only place even remotely alluring was the small tavern-like bar on the edge of town. There probably wouldn't be too many people there but if she was lucky she might find someone to flirt a little with. It had been so long since she'd had a good flirt. The last time she could remember was with Sherlock but that had been less than successful. He never really seemed very interested. Well, not enough to act on it. Mostly he just looked annoyed when she leaned a little too far into his personal space.

It wasn't until later after that whole ordeal that she began digging, trying to find some clue into the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes. She had thought she knew everything she needed to know in order to trap him, to use him in her own little game.

She couldn't have been more wrong. She knew nothing.

When she discovered his hidden truth all she could feel was sympathy. She could only imagine what it was like to lose the only person you ever loved. She had never truly loved anyone and she had thought Sherlock was the same. But as it turned out, he was deeply in love with a vanished woman.

Caitlyn McGuire.

Her completely ordinary name didn't do her justice. The picture she found of the girl was gorgeous. Long, luscious, uniquely colored hair. Bright blue eyes that shone with laughter. A nice curvy figure - not too thin, not too thick. The perfect model of feminine beauty. No wonder Sherlock never looked twice at another woman.

But even with all her digging, all her contacts, even _she_ couldn't figure out what happened to Caitlyn. It was as though the girl just fell off the face of the earth. Not a trace left. If she was still alive then the girl was even better at hiding than her. And that was saying something.

The strong scent of beer and rowdy laughter broke through her thoughts. She hadn't even realized she'd made it the half mile to the tavern. Why those same thoughts kept creeping up on her at unseemly moments was a complete mystery. Never before had she been so caught up in another person's life. Normally she moved on easily, totally forgetting all about them as she continued her ways of trickery, bribery, promiscuity, and blackmailing. But this? It simply refused to leave her alone. Constantly nagging at the back of her mind. It was rather annoying, really.

Unbuttoning her coat, she sat down at the bar, ordering the first drink she thought of. Unfortunately, there wasn't anyone even remotely attractive enough to flirt with – male or female – so she was left to nurse her drink alone. When did her life come to this?

Half an hour later, the door opened with a bang and a flurry of snow as a small figure stumbled in wrapped up in a large winter coat and snow boots with a messenger bag hanging dangerously from one arm. The person shoved the door closed behind them and pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat off her head, revealing midnight black hair in a messy bun, a heart-shaped face, full strawberry pink lips, a button nose, and electric blue eyes hidden behind thick rimmed glasses. The woman shifted nervously before heading to the corner of the bar, her eyes quickly darting over all the faces in the establishment as she seated herself on the far stool. She was different, and yet there was no mistaking her if you had studied her picture enough.

It was _her_. Caitlyn McGuire in disguise. What was she doing here?

The bartender wondered over to the newcomer, "Hey there, Maddie. Come for the free Wi-Fi, or are you drinking tonight?"

Caitlyn, or Maddie, gave a small sheepish smile and answered quietly, "How about a little of both?"

"No problem," the bartender smiled and turned away, not asking what she wanted to drink. As he poured her something, Caitlyn pulled a small laptop out of her bag and began to set it up. She silently nodded to him when he handed her a glass of amber liquid and continued working, her fingers clacking steadily against the keyboard.

She watched Caitlyn for a while, chewing her lip as she contemplated her next move. The chance of getting another opportunity like this was slim to none. But it was also risky to reveal too much about herself. If anyone overheard and it got back to the wrong person, she'd be royally screwed. Oh fuck it. What was the worst that could happen?

With that thought in mind, she moved down the bar, closer to the woman behind the laptop and cleared her throat, "Excuse me."

Caitlyn's eyes darted up, quickly searching the woman in front of her. She immediately felt like she had when Sherlock had been studying her, that day she walked out nude when he was pretending to be a priest. She didn't doubt that that was exactly what was happening. Surely Sherlock would have taught Caitlyn everything he knows.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," she smiled charmingly. It hadn't worked on Sherlock and she doubted it'd work on Caitlyn, but it didn't hurt to try. "I was wondering if you'd mind some company. I hate drinking alone."

Blue orbs continued to study her for a long moment before Caitlyn simply nodded once.

"Thanks," she sat down, still smiling pleasantly. "I'm new here – don't really know anyone yet. I'm Marie Holt, by the way."

Again with the assessing stare, "Madison Clark." Nice cover name. Common but not obviously so. "People call me Maddie."

"Nice to meet you," she said sincerely. It _was _nice to meet the only woman who could claim to have hold of Sherlock Holmes' heart. It was a little strange considering she was so quiet and seemed to want to disappear into the background. But then again, she was in hiding.

The two women sat together for an hour (maybe two) occasionally talking about nothing of importance. Caitlyn was sweet, clearly kind-hearted, though (understandably) reluctant to talk about herself.

During a natural lull in conversation, she leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the other woman's computer screen, only to have to hold back a gasp. John Watson's blog was open to the case (ironically) about her. _A Scandal In Belgravia_ it was called.

"You read that too," she asked as casually as she could.

Caitlyn eyed her suspiciously before giving a nonchalant shrug, "Sometimes."

"I find it fascinating that someone could solve all those cases by just observing things."

Caitlyn gave a small smile in reply.

"Though it would probably be hell to date him." The sentence was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She watched Caitlyn carefully as the woman's eyes snapped to her face, panic flashing in the blue orbs.

"What do you mean?" she asked hesitantly.

She shrugged, not looking away from Caitlyn's eyes, "Just that he would know everything. Every single detail of your life. Wouldn't that get annoying?"

The initial panic subsided somewhat, though she still looked wary, "I suppose. But then again, you wouldn't have to worry about keeping secrets, since he'd be able to tell. It'd be nice to have that sort of trust." Her eyes grew sad as she spoke.

"Hmm," she nodded. "I don't think I could handle that. I'm not very good at being truthful. I'm not very good at relationships either, so I suppose it's moot."

Caitlyn snorted, "I suppose so."

Silence developed between them as she mulled over her next move. For some reason, she felt some need to reveal the truth to Caitlyn. To tell her everything about Sherlock and the Scandal. About how Sherlock never got over her. And to ask why Caitlyn disappeared in the first place. It was obvious by how she constantly looked around, keeping one eye on the exits, that Caitlyn was hiding from something just as much as she was. But what? What would scare her so much she wouldn't even tell Sherlock? That she would give up her perfect life and run away?

Never one to deny herself anything, she decided to take a leap, "What if I were to tell you that I had recently been in London? And I had met those two?" she nodded to the laptop.

Caitlyn eyed her cautiously once again, "Really?"

She nodded, "Actually it was during that case that you're reading."

She said nothing.

This was incredibly risky. But what was life without a little risk? Taking a look around the bar, she leaned forward so only Caitlyn could hear, "I have a confession to make. My name isn't Marie Holt. It's Irene Adler. I'm the woman they're talking about in that case."

Caitlyn's eyes widened, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," she lowered her voice more. "I did my homework. I know _everything_ about Sherlock Holmes." Caitlyn started at the name. "Everything."

She gasped, jumping up from her seat, her eyes never leaving the other woman as she dug out some dollar bills. She left them on the bar as she quickly threw her things in her bag, shoved on her coat, and hurried out the door, ignoring the bartender's worried calls. Irene followed suit.

Out in the bitter, unforgiving cold, she could just make out the retreating figure down the deserted road. Rushing to catch up, she called out Caitlyn's name making the other woman spin around angrily.

"Don't _ever_ call me that," she hissed, eyes darting up and down the road.

"Why?" Irene refused to admit that she was practically begging now. "What are you afraid of? Why would you leave all that behind for this?"

"I can't tell you!" Caitlyn took an unsteady breath, arms crossing to hug herself. Tears began to drop unnoticed from her eyes. "I never wanted to leave. But I had to. It was the only way…"

"Only way to what?" Irene stepped closer, feeling a great amount of sympathy to the poor girl. She obviously didn't have anyone to trust anymore.

"To keep him safe," she whispered, voice almost drowned out by the wind.

"Sherlock." It all made sense now. Why else would she go into hiding? Doing something she never thought she'd feel the need to do in a million years, Irene reached out, bringing Caitlyn into a hug. The woman stiffened before relaxing into it, bringing her hands up to place them on the other woman's back.

"Who, Caitlyn?" Irene needed to know. She'd already resolved to help her, but she needed to know everything in order to do that. As they stood there, her mind was already whirring with plans of the two of them hiding together (preferably somewhere warmer) until they figured out a way to return Caitlyn to Sherlock. "Who are you protecting Sherlock from?"

The name hung in the air between them, sending shivers that had nothing to do with the snow down their spines.

"Moriarty."


End file.
